Welcome To Sunnydale, Demigods
by Peeta Melark
Summary: Nico di Angelo has left Camp Half-Blood after the war with Gaea. Now, four years later, he has wandered into the town of Sunnydale California. After Buffy saves his life, Nico has a choice: Learn to call Sunnydale home and learn to trust Buffy and her friends, or go back to Camp Half-Blood.
1. Chapter 1

Gods, did these monsters get any worse? Nico had been tracking one for hours and he hadn't even gotten a proper face off! Every time he thought he had it cornered, the monster slipped into the shadows. To make matters even _worse_, it was _incredibly_ humanoid. Sometimes Nico would think he had the monster trapped, and then he would find out it was just some random guy wearing the same clothes and the same hair. But then he would look back and the monster would be back! It looked like that guy, but the face was all messed up. It had bright, deep-set yellow eyes, a ridged nose and a bumpy forehead, and… were those _fangs_? A humanoid with _fangs_? Now this was just too creepy. The only humanoid with fangs was the _empousa_, and even that wasn't so human, nor were they male. No. This guy was just a creepy monster, Nico decided. He had no idea what it… or he… was, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to find out.

"Going somewhere, boy?" said a voice from behind. Nico spun around to find the monster watching him from the shadows. He reached for his sword.

"I should have… I should have heard you!" he cried. The monster chuckled, advancing slowly.

"I'm very quiet," he murmured. Nico's fingers brushed his sword, moving to draw it. "Oh, I wouldn't if I were you," the monster added.

"Well, you're not—" Before he could finish his sentence, the monster grabbed his shoulders and threw him into the alley wall. His head cracked against it and he could feel hot, sticky wetness trickling down his neck. Blood. Nico couldn't remember the last time he'd been hurt by a monster's first attack. He was usually ready by then, usually prepared to defend himself.

Slowly, he staggered to his feet. Then, not really thinking much, he charged the monster. Somehow he managed to get his sword into his hand, and he thrust it into the monster's chest with an angry yell. For a beautiful moment, the monster fell back, landing in a heap on the damp cobblestones. But it didn't turn to yellow dust. Instead it just got back up, extracting Nico's Stygian iron blade from its chest.

"Sorry, kid. That's not going to stop me."

Strong, cold arms wrapped around Nico's shoulders. A bloodless, pale hand tangled in his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. There was a hungry snarl as the monster leaned in with its fangs ready to bite. Every single muscle in Nico's body tensed. If he was going to die, he was determined not to show fear.

Then, all of a sudden, there was nothing. The heavy weight was gone and Nico found himself falling to the ground. His sword landed next to him with a clatter and he grabbed it, hugging it firmly to his chest. He didn't dare look up, but he heard the scuffle. The monster's grunts and shouts were intermingled with those of a young woman. She sounded young, and from the lightness of her boots on the cobblestones, she was small. When Nico did look up, albeit briefly, he caught a flash of blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and maybe a glint of blue eyes. There was a scream as the monster fell back, clutching his heart as he turned to a skeleton and then to dust.

"Oh yeah?" the young woman said, her voice playful yet jaded, tired. "Well _this_ will." She twirled a wooden stake in her hand. Wait… a _wooden stake_?

Nico scrambled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing in his bleeding head. Every limb, every muscle, every single cell in his body hurt. This was definitely one of the worst beatings he'd gotten in a while.

"Need a hand?" the young woman asked, tucking the stake into her bag and drying her hands off on her pants. Nico shook his head, groaning.

"No. It's just… I haven't been beaten like that in a while." He sighed. "It's silly, I know, but I'm just kind of…"

"Disappointed in yourself?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. I guess that's it. Good fighting, by the way," he added. The young woman laughed, pulling her hair down from its ponytail, letting it fall in silky waves just a little past her shoulders.

"Well," she chuckled bitterly. "It's my job. You had no idea what you were doing, did you?"

"No," Nico admitted. "Care to explain?"

The young woman smiled gently, pulling a stake and a cross from her bag and handing them to Nico. He was so used to his sword that these new weapons felt odd in his hands, too light, too splintery and too much like fairy tales to be real. He wanted to hand them back, to throw them in the young woman's face and ask her who in Hades' name she thought she was, but he didn't want to make her mad. She was small, sure, but she was also powerful. Nico hadn't seen that kind of power in a long time. Quite frankly, she reminded him of the Hunters of Artemis. Gods… he would give almost anything even to see _them_ again, but he knew he couldn't. When he'd left Camp, he'd left everything behind.

"Well…" Her voice was very soft and very sad. "In every generation there is born a Slayer. One girl who can face the vampires and the demons and the forces of darkness—that's me. She's powerful and alone. And so are you."

Nico decided to ignore the _and so are you_ and skip right to the _forces of darkness _bit. "Wait, _vampires_?"

The young woman nodded, her blue eyes distant, turned towards the cloudy night sky. "Vampires, witches, werewolves, demons. They're all here. They're all here, and it's my job to fight them. Don't ask me why 'cause I don't know. Some guys a long time ago decided it was going to be some poor unfortunate girls' responsibility. They've—_we've_ never been given a break. _I've_ never been given a break, not even for _coffee_."

She looked wistful. Nico knew the feeling. He knew the feeling because he felt it every day. Ever since he'd left Camp Half-Blood four years ago he couldn't get rid of it. He felt like something had been given to him… some burden he couldn't possibly carry. Some days it was worse than others, and some days he barely remembered it. But when he did feel it, it was a horrible pain in his chest, or a pressure around his heart. It wasn't fun and it left him crying more often than not. But time and some anger helped mask it pretty well.

Still, all he could manage to say was, "That sounds rough."

"Yeah," the young woman agreed. "It does."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked for an explanation."

"That's okay," she sighed. "I was going to give one anyways. So, who are you?"

Nico wasn't sure he wanted to tell her, but he thought he ought to. In any case, they were approaching a cemetery. It was old and dark and probably would have been spooky if he wasn't the son of Hades.

"I'm Nico," he muttered. "Nico di Angelo."

The young woman smiled, looking him in the eye for the first time. "I'm Buffy," she declared. "Buffy Summers."

**A/N: I'm so sorry for starting a new story. I'm still working on the others, I promise, but I'm really inspired for this one! I do promise I'll keep updating, though. **

**Suggestions?**


	2. Chapter 2

"You left your home?" Buffy asked, sitting down on a tombstone with a sigh of weariness. She patted the spot next to her, inviting him to sit down, but he shook his head, declining. She thought that was weird, but she didn't say anything. There was something creepy about Nico, even under that broken visage. Maybe it was the dark hair or the slight hint of an accent, so soft it was practically nonexistent. Or maybe it was the way Buffy could tell he wasn't telling her everything. Maybe he was going to, but she knew it would take some coaxing.

"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did."

Buffy reached out to place a gentle hand on his elbow, but he shied away. She sighed, asking, "Why did you do it?"

The dark-haired boy made a strangled sobbing sound and put his face in his hands. He sat dejectedly on a tombstone, looking defeated and small.

"They couldn't find out," he whispered. "I'm going to Hell, and I'll drag them down with me."

"Nico," Buffy said. "I'm going to take you home with me, okay? Then we can talk about this some more, okay?

Though he looked skeptical, Nico nodded, shoving himself to his feet. Buffy did the same, wincing at the soreness in her limbs. God, she'd been out for the better part of the night patrolling, and she could use a cup of hot chocolate and a nice, comfy place to sit. She figured Nico could too. He was so gaunt, so colorless, so tired-looking. His clothes hung off of his bony frame like sails on the mast of a ship… a very old, very tired ship. Black, curly hair hung messily around his white face, sticking to his forehead with sweat, blood and the hot, humid night air. His eyes were tortured and very dark, like black pits leading to Hell.

When they reached the Summers' home, Nico was reluctant to go inside. He lingered by the door.

"I'm a mess," he explained. "I don't want to intrude. I-I-I-I can't… I can't let you go to Hell too. You're so nice, and nice people aren't ever what they seem, and I've had it up to here—" He gestured, demonstrating. "With nice people! I mean, nice people are always saying it's just who I am, that I can't help being—" He clapped his hands over his mouth, gasping in fear and shame. Buffy felt her heart leap as she rushed to pull him into the house. He didn't fight her. All the fight seemed to go right out of him. It was easy enough to sit him down on the couch and call her friends.

It was only a few minutes before Willow showed up. When she saw Nico, her eyes went very, very wide and she ran to fetch some milk and cookies from the kitchen. Xander and Giles followed quickly, and Tara came in a short while later. She too looked devastated and desperate to help at the sight of Nico.

"Do you w-want me to get you anything?" she asked, stammering slightly, looking down at the rug. Her hands tangled together, then jumped to play with her hair, then to smooth out her skirt or pull at her shirt sleeves. "Or you could take a shower or a nap or s-s-something."

Nico glanced at Buffy. "I should probably clean up. Like I said, I'm a mess." He didn't look too happy to be staying, but he did seem resigned to it.

_Good_, she thought_. He needs a new start_.

**O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O**

Willow thought that Nico looked awful, and she could tell her friends did too. When he got back from his shower, dressed in the clean clothes Xander had brought over, he looked almost ludicrously small. The shirt Xander gave him was dark grey and hung off of his shoulders like an oversized Christmas jumper. The jeans were too long and too baggy. All in all, Nico looked pitiful, and his hair hung in wet curls that stopped just above his shoulders. Dark circles lingered under his dark eyes. He refused to touch the cookies and milk Willow brought him.

"I'm not hungry," he said, obviously lying. Willow sighed, her heart lurching pityingly.

"Oh… okay," she said. "But you should eat something. Can I make you some toast?"

To her dismay, Nico shook his head. She wanted so badly to reach out with magick, look at his emotions a little bit, but she knew it was too advanced and too dangerous. She couldn't do it without seriously draining herself and maybe Nico too. He wasn't fully human. She could tell that just by looking at him. She knew somehow that, if she cut him, he would still bleed red. Odd, she thought, but not completely so. She would look it up later when Nico was asleep. Maybe he was half demon or something like that. It was possible for demons to dwell outside of Sunnydale—heck, there was a Hellmouth in _Cleveland_ of all places! It wouldn't surprise Willow if Nico _was_ half demon. But somehow she didn't think he was…

"Where are you from?" Xander asked, his voice gentle and worried. Nico raised his eyes to meet Xander's.

"New York," was the miserable reply. "Well, actually Italy, but I don't remember it much. I lived there until I was ten."

"Italy?" Buffy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her knuckles. "I knew you talked funny!" She caught Giles's eye, blushing embarrassedly. "Well, I-I just meant that he has an accent." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Nico jumped to the rescue.

"I never noticed that I did. My friends never pointed it out, but I don't talk much."

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad," Buffy compensated, blushing. Willow almost felt bad for her. "In fact, I barely hear it! Right, Will?"

Willow nodded absently, studying Nico's face. Behind the stoic expression, she saw pure misery. He was too skinny, but she'd noticed that as soon as she first saw him. His cheekbones were so prominent, so sharp they made his face look almost like a skull. He barely looked strong enough to lift a stack of papers and bruises were already forming on his chalky skin. Poor thing.

"Right…" She'd barely heard Buffy. As she was about to get up, she felt Tara's hands on her shoulders. With a smile, she tilted her face up to accept Tara's gentle kiss. Then she heard Nico gasp. When Willow turned to look at him, his eyes were wide and he looked like someone had just hit him with a truck (not a real one, of course).

"What are you…?" He trailed off, looking like he wanted to laugh or cry or maybe run away. "I've never…"

Buffy jumped to her feet before Willow could stop her.

"Their love is _beautiful_," she said firmly. "Don't you _dare_ say anything else."

"No…" Nico shook his head, clearing it. "It's just… You're all okay with it?"

Willow gasped. Suddenly, Nico di Angelo's pale, gaunt face and frightened aura made perfect sense to her. But she would hold on to her suspicions until the others caught up.

"Hey, Nico," she said. "Are you going to eat your cookies now or do I have to make you?"

**A/N: I'd love some suggestions and comments! I've never written ****_Buffy_**** fanfiction before, so forgive me while I figure their voices and characters out…**


	3. Chapter 3

After most of his new hosts had left, Nico sat alone on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, thinking about what he was doing in Sunnydale California. The place was creepy, but that wasn't it. How had he ended up there? He hadn't even been aware of its existence until the young woman—Buffy—told him where he was. Until then, he didn't even know there _was_ a Sunnydale California!

"Nico?" Buffy called. Nico looked up, grimacing. She was standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on her right leg. As she walked towards him, Nico realized she was limping. He didn't remember her limping before, nor did he remember the multitude of cuts and bruises on her face, her arms… He must have fallen asleep, and she must have gone out while he was asleep. But… she'd fought off that vampire with such ease. What could hurt her like that?

"I'm here," Nico whispered softly, wearily. Buffy limped over to a chair and sat down with a heavy, pained sigh. For a while, neither she nor Nico spoke. He studied her face, the closed eyes, the veins throbbing in her temple, her chapped, bleeding lips and bruised cheekbones. Her expression was blank and still, as if she were lost in thought. Nico knew the feeling all too well. When he and Reyna had returned with the Athena Parthenos, he had been bruised, bloody and on the brink of death. For a day and night, he lay in his cabin doing nothing at all, just waiting and wishing he could die. Percy Jackson had visited him then, asking what was wrong. Nico had tried to run away, tried to leave then and there, but he was needed in the war.

Finally, Buffy's eyes opened and fixed on Nico. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze, like she could see deep into his soul.

"What happened?" she asked. Nico feigned confusion, but she continued anyways. "Earlier, I mean, with Willow and Tara. You totally wigged!"

Nico winced. He hadn't meant to upset her or her friends. Willow and Tara were nice, and he was just startled.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should explain."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, leaning back with a grimace of pain. "I've got all night."

"I'm…" Nico paused. He didn't know what to say. What would she believe? If this girl was the Slayer, wouldn't she believe all kinds of things? But what if she didn't believe his story? What if she didn't believe _him_? "I'm from the forties. The nineteen-forties, to be exact. My dad is… Hades, and I haven't got a mother. Not anymore."

His heart thumped in his chest as hot tears flooded his eyes. He couldn't stop them. Thoughts of his mother and his sister fluttered through the fog of the Lethe and the careful walls he had built over the years. He felt years worth of anguish slam against those strong foundations, threatening to topple them all.

"When I was ten, my sister and I were taken out of this hotel place and taken to a school. I guess I learned to speak English in the hotel, but I don't remember. I still think in Italian sometimes. Well, we didn't know what we were until Percy—" Nico's voice cracked. "Percy Jackson came to get us. He saved us, saved_ me_. My sister joined the Hunters of Artemis and I went to Camp. Then Percy failed. He let her die, and there wasn't a person who could have stopped it. I was alone, so alone. I don't want to get into the details, but I've had a hard time in the past. I helped Percy because I l-loved him. I thought I might have a chance, but I was wrong. I've never been more wrong in my entire life. All eighty years give or take a few."

Buffy's face was impossible to read. Then she said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize…"

"Don't be." Nico shook his head. His hair was already dry. That was good. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Gently, Buffy laughed and said, "Maybe because you realize you were wrong."

"About what?" Nico asked. Buffy laughed again.

"About yourself. There's nothing wrong with you Nico. You _saw_ Willow and Tara, right? They're sweet. They're really, really sweet. And so are you."

"W-what? Why are you being so nice to me. I stumbled into your town and almost got my butt kicked in a matter of an hour or two."

Buffy giggled, wincing slightly in pain. "I didn't slay too well at first either, but it gets easier. How about I tell you a bit about Buffy?"

Nico nodded sheepishly. "That would be nice."

"Well," Buffy mused. "I was fifteen, and I was really, really popular. I was a _total_ ditz! But then I couldn't be anymore. Buffy Summers was gone—or I thought she was. It was just the beginning. A new Buffy came from the old. I was the Slayer. I _am_ the Slayer. It's not easy, but I have to be. Until I breathe my very last breath, I am the Slayer."

For a while, Nico was silent. He didn't know what to say, what he _could_ say. Buffy was extraordinary; there was nothing else to it. She was everything good and pure and bright, and she was everything Nico had remembered in his sister. Of course, though he all but wept for admitting it, he was already starting to forget Bianca. Over the years it had grown so that she just seemed like a distant dream. Even though his heart still ached at the mention of his name and her eyes still blinked behind his, he was starting to forget the little things, tiny details almost indistinguishable from one another. It was like time was washing her image away.

"Nico?" Buffy called out, making it sound like he was far away. "Is something wrong?"

Nico shook his head slowly. "No. It's just—for a second—you looked a bit like her."

"Her?" Buffy asked. "Who's 'her,' your girlfriend?" She took one look at Nico's angry scowl and laughed. "I _know_ you don't have one. Who?"

"My sister," he spat. Then the venom went out of him again and he slumped back against the couch cushions. Buffy looked apologetic.

"Oh," she said softly. "I didn't… I'm sorry, Nico."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Nico admitted. "I'm just on edge. I'm always afraid that kindness will turn on me. I've never been accepted, and it's hard for me to believe I ever can me. I just don't feel right, and I can't help it. I'm not from this time. I don't belong."

Suddenly, Buffy's hand was grasping his, comforting him in a moment of inexplicable sadness and loss. Nico looked up into her eyes and he saw them smile. They weren't brown, nor were they the eyes of a twelve-year-old immortal girl, but they reminded him just a bit of Bianca's.

**A/N: Well, here's chapter three! Enjoy!**


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